After the End
by dizzygirl464
Summary: What if the part of Voldemort in Harry was never destroyed? His body, most of his soul, yes, but this one bit of him still remains, inside the man that should have been his downfall. Lives are destroyed friendships bloom. AU, rated - language violence


Harry!" He barely had time to register the voice before Hermione flung her arms around his neck, sobbing. "I thought you were dead. I really thought he'd killed you ..."

He couldn't concentrate on what she was saying. His eyes darted around, taking in the array of people, rubble, bodies. Bright lights, emanating from the tips of wands; screams, shouts, cries. He distractedly put his hands on her back, rubbing it.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Where's Ron?"

She pulled back from him slightly, a worried expression creasing her forehead. It was only then he noticed the deep cut to her temple, the dust and dirt clouding her face. "Um. He and Ginny are with his family. With F-Fred." She struggled to say his name, and tears sprung to her eyes. "We should leave them ..."

"They were my family before I knew about Sirius. They were my family after he died-"

"They need time to grieve alone," she cut in, her sharp tone as she warned him a relief – something of normality was returning. "I'm going to help the injured. I've been practicing healing small cuts, it should work ..." Harry's awareness of her faded quickly as he turned away, taking in the enormity of the situation. Voldemort was dead. He, Harry Potter had killed him. And destroyed half of Hogwarts at the same time. The school that had, for thousands of years, taught witches and wizards like himself, had been half reduced to rubble. He had ruined the place that had been his home for the past 7 years.

"Harry!" he turned, almost irritably, annoying at being disturbed until he saw the flash of red hair darting towards him. Ginny leapt into his embrace, crying softly. "He's gone, Harry. Fred's gone." All he could do was stroke her hair gently – what do you say to someone who had lost a brother and a friend? They stayed for half an hour, people moving silently around them, until she gently pulled away, taking his hand instead. "Mum wants us to go home, and take Fred's body away from this place. It holds too many memories. Could you come with us?"

Harry could only nod. He was being included as family at the hardest moment of their lives, and it touched him, deeper than they could have known. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, and his eyes clogged up, but he refused to let tears fall. He would not give Voldemort the satisfaction.

**o.O.o**

Two weeks had passed since 'that day' as it had been referred to ever since. Fred had been buried, on the mound that they had played Quidditch almost every summer, under the tree they had used as a goal. Harry and Hermione had taken up residence with the Weasley's. Hermione couldn't bear to face her parents after erasing their memories of her, and Harry had nowhere else to go.

They were all sat around the cramped table that had already been stretched one dinnertime when Mrs Weasley put down her fork, a smile on her face. Although this smile was natural, unforced, it was a ghost of what it used to be. She had not recovered fully since Fred's death.

"You know, all of my boys, and my little girl are in love!" she announced, looking around the table. "Bill has Fleur, Charlie has Anuka, Percy has Roma, George has Katie," ("wonder how long that's going to last!" Ron interjected with a splutter,) "my Ronnie, has Hermione," she gave Hermione a fond smile, "and Ginny has Harry!"

"Well perceived, Mother," George told her, with a sigh of faked embarrassment. "Just think of the money the weddings are going to cost!" he laughed when her face paled considerably. "Of course, I highly doubt any of us are going to seeing how Bill and Fleur's ended!"

Everyone around the table laughed – it seemed such a lifetime ago, it has been unspokenly agreed that it should be fine to joke about it. Only Fleur blushed slightly.

In amongst the laughter, only Ginny noticed Harry's gasp of pain as his hand flashed to his head. She squeezed his hand, turning to him, a worried expression replacing the smile.

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong? It can't be your scar?" she hissed into his ear, her voice lowered.

He just shook his hand, standing up with a clatter. "Ill ..." he managed to gulp before running from the room. He collapsed over the toilet seat and was violently sick. The images that had filled his head, the thoughts rushing through his brain ...

"_A filthy Mudblood and a blood-traitor, what a perfect match ... should be quicker to kill together to-"_

_A flash of green light, Cedric eyes rolled back into his head, his mouth open in surprise..._

"_No! Please, don't hurt him, not my Harry ... No!" A young woman, so thoughtless in her rush to protect her baby son._

Noises grew louder, they hurt his ears, he heard a noise, a shriek it filled his brain. He was drowning-

"HARRY! Open this door now!"

Ginny terrified scream from behind the wood brought Harry back to his senses. She fell inside when he opened to door with a yelp of surprise. Picking herself up off him, she began to punch and kick every inch of him.

"What the bloody hell were you doing? You had me so worried, and you _screamed_ Harry! What's happening? Talk. To. Me!"

She collapsed onto the floor again, shaking with dry sobs. "I'm sorry. I was just ... ill. I don't feel well," he lied, almost scarily easily. "I really am sorry Ginny, don't be worried," he tried to comfort her.

She looked up, into his startling green eyes, as though afraid of something. It took her minutes to find the words. "Harry, I ... I haven't seen you act like this since ... well ..." she stopped, as thought unsure of whether to continue. "Since you had those visions. From Voldemort's mind."

Harry leapt up, the shock impact of her words sinking in. "I'm fine, Ginny, go back to dinner," he told her harshly before running upstairs. He slid down by his back, knuckling his wet eyes. Those _images_ he had seen. Torturing Ron and Hermione, Ginny until they screamed, murdering Cedric. They _couldn't_ be his own, he knew himself to well. But how could they be Voldemort's? He had killed him; he had seen his cold body before his eyes. What was happening to him?


End file.
